


Implicit Demand For The Song

by SongPainter (OliverFans)



Series: Twenty One Pilots - Songs Painted With Words [1]
Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Inspired by Music, Meta Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 15:44:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8167327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OliverFans/pseuds/SongPainter
Summary: This is my metapoetry inspired by the song Implicit Demand For Proof from the Twenty One Pilots self-titled album.





	

It's morning and a chill in the air grips at the bare toes that are walking on wooden boards.

Dust, must and well-loved books are the fragrance of this home.  
Cosy with history.

The feet stop in front of a cabinet housing a stereo. Fingers cautiously lift the arm of the record player and tenderly place it to the outer edge of the record while the black vinyl spins slowly underneath it.

Eyes widen in anticipation.

A crackle.

A holding of breath.

A pulsing that goes beyond speakers begins and the chest left waiting fills hungrily.  
Each chord is breathed in as though it was all that remained for nourishment for all of time.

Bare toes twitch and weight shifts under soles.  
A mist that had lingered at the forehead swirls before lifting.

Arms feel a building of vibration and a shivering, that tumbles down to fingers and they can't be contained.  
They flutter along the bars of 3/4 time and crave to dance on ivory, to join in, to combine, to express.

A dropping beat demands a body to bounce with it; it's involuntary and feeling it happen sparks excitement.  
  
The wide-eyed curiosity of watching oneself be toyed with by black characters that were drawn to a page, once upon a time.

_Once upon a time_

And then there is a separation. A shift. A slip into an alternate reality.  
  
They float, body no longer relevant.

Adrift by the serenade. A losing of self to the rip tide. A falling into a vortex of sound.  
  
Weightless.

No body here, the heart has her turn. She screams, her lips to a microphone. Her language, a tugging and expanding, the body grateful for a reprieve from her power.

She opens her mouth and transparent neon sheets flow from her and out, rippling and swaying.

She wants impact. Collision. Feeling.

Her eyes pool with liquid and the droplets fall to the neon sheets of light; becoming blue, before shattering.

She screams again, this reality shattering to pieces. Her cry morphing to maniacal laugh.

A thud  
and body and heart collapse down into one.

Eyes blink and heart beats in time with the speaking from the speakers.  
  
Feet grasp wooden boards while fingers twirl in hems and hair is twisted and dropped.  
  


And the song is over, and the loss is painful.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't put into words how amazing this experience was for me. I hope you can feel it too.


End file.
